


Permeable

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-15
Updated: 2007-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:10:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niou does what he can to attend to Yukimura's needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permeable

**Author's Note:**

> Smut, and only the barest traces of plot around the edge. Sequel to Succor.

**Permeable**

He's finally managed to get their pants undone and worked down their hips�"and Yukimura isn't really helping with that, the corner of Masaharu's mind that always stands just a bit apart notes, although his hands feel pretty good, roaming up and down his back like that�"when the pressure in the air changes just a bit.

"Ah," Hiroshi says, "perhaps I should come back later."

For just the barest split-second, Yukimura is tense in his arms, and then he relaxes again, and laughs. "Don't be silly," he says, and one of his hands leaves Masaharu's back. He doesn't have to see it to know that Yukimura is beckoning Hiroshi closer. "Come in." There's a touch of steel under the husky invitation; it's as much an order as a request.

Hiroshi doesn't hesitate, but why should he? They've talked this over a thousand times already. "If you're sure," he says, already coming in, and then he's a warm presence against Masaharu's back.

Yukimura laughs, short. "I'm quite sure," he says, and then he makes a muffled sound as Masaharu curls his fingers around their cocks, stroking them together. "Niou!"

It can be difficult to read Yukimura when he's in this mood, but he figures he's got a pretty good handle on what his captain wants today, and goes about giving it to him, hand firm as it moves up and down, and fuck, he's gotta say that feels pretty good, even if it's not really for him. It feels even better when Hiroshi's fingers slide under his shirt and push his pants down, blunt nails raking over his skin just sharp enough to feel, which is the way he likes it. He moans against Yukimura's throat.

Yukimura's hands close on his shoulders, pressing on them. "Down," he murmurs. "I want to feel your mouth."

"All right," he says, because that's good too, even if it's more than Yukimura usually asks for.

He starts to go to his knees, but Yukimura shakes his head and leans back against a bench, spreading his legs wide, and Masaharu gets the idea. He snorts softly, and bends down to run his tongue up Yukimura's cock. Hiroshi gets his pants down past his knees, which is all he really needs to kick them the rest of the way off, and as Hiroshi's hands skim up the insides of his thighs, he wraps his lips around Yukimura's cock and sucks.

Yukimura groans and brings a hand up to cup his head, just enough weight in it to urge Masaharu for more. Fuck, why not? He's in an obliging kind of mood today, so he relaxes his jaw and takes Yukimura deeper, lets the hot weight of him slide between his lips and fuck his mouth, slow and deliberate and not too much, because Yukimura's always careful not to ask too much of him.

He figures that's the only reason this thing of theirs works at all.

Caught between the two of them like this, with Hiroshi's fingers working his ass open (just enough rough burn on it to be perfect, and when he moans around Yukimura's cock, Yukimura moans too), it's easy to fall into contemplation. Yukimura is leaning back on one hand, back arched and eyes nearly closed, and this is as open as he ever lets himself be. That's all right, though; he wouldn't know what to do with Yukimura if he did open all the way up. He just thanks his stars that Yukimura had better sense than to take him up on his offer to let Yukimura fuck him.

He moans again when Hiroshi's cock slides into him, slow and hard, and he's still tight enough that the stretch of it is sharp. It's perfect, and Hiroshi's fingers dig into his hips to keep him from bucking back for more. His grip is tight enough that he's probably going to leave a pattern of crescent-shaped bruises. Masaharu likes that thought, likes knowing that he's going to be marked, at least for a few days, and he hums contentedly around Yukimura's cock, sucking harder. Yukimura makes a sound, breathless and yearning, and then his fingers twist in Masaharu's hair and he's coming, flat-salt on Masaharu's tongue and his whole body shaking with it.

Masaharu rides with it, sliding his mouth over Yukimura until he stops shaking and Yukimura's hand pushes him away from his cock. Masaharu rides with that, too, and braces himself against the bench as Hiroshi's thrusts turn harder to concentrate on his own pleasure. Hiroshi's still holding him still, so he snakes his own hand down to fist around his cock, jerking it roughly until orgasm sears up his spine and he loses track of everything but the pleasure that's scraping him raw.

When he comes back down, there are long fingers in his hair, stroking it with something that might almost be tenderness, and Hiroshi is finishing up, groaning low and sexy as his hips jerk against Masaharu's. He looks up in time to see the shadows flickering in Yukimura's eyes, but Yukimura tucks them away before he can do more than recognize that they're there.

"That was very pleasant," Yukimura says. "Thank you."

Masaharu does the only thing he can, which is give Yukimura a lazy grin and say, "Any time, buchou. Any time."

**end**


End file.
